Eternity
by TudorQueens
Summary: After his death, Henry is condemned to haunt the halls of his palace alongside the one woman he wished to never see again; Anne. Together, they must experience the reigns of their children, and the impact their lives have left on history.
1. Prologue

The heavy curtains were drawn tightly across the windows stopping any sunlight that attempted to leak through. Candles, flickering dimly in the corner of the room, provided the only meager amount of light necessary for doctor William Butts to see. In a giant bed placed in the middle of the even greater chambers, lay his patient, King Henry VIII.

William wiped his brow as he turned back to the sputtering man. The King coughed ferociously, the very sound seeming to reverberate through his spine, and then collapsed unceremoniously into his pillows. His eyelids flickered rapidly, and he seemed to murmur something unrecognizable under his breath, before quickly falling back into a stupor of unconsciousness.

Taking a damp cloth, William wiped the sweat away from the King's drenched forehead. This, as all of his other actions that evening, were done with no hope of saving the man. You did not have to be a physician to see that the King was on his deathbed. In fact, his final confession had already been administered days before. He knew, as well as anyone else, that all attempts to extend his life now were merely ceremonious; as things were, it would be nothing short of a miracle if the King managed to survive the night at all.

As he grabbed another clean cloth, William glanced down to the foot of the bed where the King's leg lay limp. He had tried to wrap it before, but the King had groaned in such protest that he was forced to stop. In fact, it seemed that any contact with the large boils running up his skin caused him the most immense pain. It was William's professional opinion that his Majesty was suffering from an extreme case of gout, no doubt caused by the jousting incident many years ago.

While William had never known the King before his accident, the descriptions he had heard in no way matched the sight before him now. What was evidently once handsome and beautiful, was now hidden under mounds of thick skin and red blisters. The kind defender of the faith, had grown to be a lecherous man. And, a formerly sharp mind, had been reduced to a pile of mush. He found himself to be shocked by the notion that he, a mere doctor, was looking down at an anointed King with pity.

As if he could read his thoughts, the King began to stir. He panted heavily, and then opened his eyes with such ferocity that William almost startled back. He seemed to scrutinize him for a moment, and then furrowed his brows deeply.

"Doctor." The King spoke with surprising clarity. "Where is my wife?"

William, still aghast with shock, sputtered for a moment before clearing his throat to answer. "Your Majesty, Queen Catherine resides in her chambers with your children." "They had already come to see you earlier." He added on quickly when he saw the anger only amassing further onto the King's features.

"No." He spoke. "Catherine is gone. I meant the Queen Anne."

William sat still in surprise, not sure of how to respond to the heaviness of the words. Was the King's mind truly so far gone that he thought himself to still be married to _that _woman. In the past years her name was only mentioned in the smallest of whispers, all most careful not to catch the King's ear, and certainly not with the title of Queen next to it.

"Your Majesty." He chose his words carefully. "Queen Anne is dead, remember? She passed some years ago." William said, deciding to leave the fact that he had ordered her execution out.

The King's forehead creased.

"Dead?"

"Is that so?" He murmured. "Is that so?"

This sentence was repeated a few times until he eventually fell back into a fitful sleep, leaving only the stunned doctor behind to mull over his words.

It was a mere two hours later that his body seemed to become peaceful, and the last bit of life in King Henry VIII was gone.

* * *

When William was called to report to the Queen, he decided not to mention the fact that her husband's final breath was used to say the name of another woman.

**A/N**

**The idea for this story was given to me by an anonymous comment on my previous work. I know it's been a long time, but I had actually been planning to write it for a while, I just didn't have the inspiration. Also keep in mind that this is only the prologue, the following chapters will be longer and in the point of view of Henry. I had initially debated whether or not to write his pov for this chapter, but then decided I found it more interesting to write when it came from an outside source. I only hope that it translated well. As for the next update, I'm not sure when it will be. Maybe in a week, maybe more. Whenever I have the time and inspiration. Again thank you so much for reading, your comments and suggestions are always appreciated. **


	2. To be dead

When he awoke, he was no longer in his chambers. Henry blinked and sat up quickly, rubbing the blur from his eyes as he tried to make sense of his location. He was outside, that much was clear, but the mystery was how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was speaking with his wife and children, before everything faded into a murky blur of pain and delusion.

He glanced around and scrutinized the place. It was the courtyard at Whitehall, where he had been lying on the slightly snowy embankment. Everything was eerily quiet, with not a single other soul in sight. In fact, the entire palace seemed dead. With a sudden surge of adrenaline, he bolted up, and then froze, wincing in reflex before realizing he felt no pain in his leg. Henry stayed there for a moment, and then timidly pulled up the pant around his calf. His fingers froze in place. _What kind of sorcery was this? _

Where there had once been overgrown blisters and a scar too painful to look at, there was now only smooth, elastic skin which he had not seen since his youth. Henry tugged the fabric back down before looking around even more frantically. Panic began to rise in his chest, threatening to bubble out of him as bile. _No, this could not be happening. _

He ran, with surprising speed, into the palace, hastily making his way to his chambers. The unsubsiding anxiety only rose as he realized that he still had yet to see any other living person. None of this made sense. It had to be a trick, a cruel trick his mind was playing on him during the height of his illness. Yes, that was what it was. In his delusional stupor he had somehow found his way outside. He would arrive at his chambers and realize how foolish he was being, because surely, that was the most plausible explanation.

Turning the corner, he rounded to the doors of his rooms, and stopped suddenly when he noticed the guards standing before him. He almost sighed in relief to see another person before he remembered his position as King, and shook himself out of it. He had to stop acting so paranoid. Now, he was even more certain that there had to be a good explanation behind the strange occurances of the morning. He walked forwards, expecting the two men to step aside, and then furrowed his brow when they didn't.

"Open the doors." Henry commanded. The guards only stared back at him blankly, their eyes misted over as if they were looking right through him. _What in God's name was going on? _

"I command you open these doors at once." He tried again, only to be met with the same dead stares. His temper quickly rose, and with it, his voice grew to a shout. "I am your King! You will stand aside!"

When they were again unresponsive, he screamed and barreled at the guards, all the strength from his younger years returning in an instant. Henry steeled himself for the impending collision and closed his eyes. None ever came, and, losing his footing, he found himself falling onto the stone cold floor instead.

As he plummeted forwards, a wave of cool air passed through his body, the chill seeming to come from the inside of his bones. Henry shook his eyes open with a start and pushed himself back up into a standing position. His breath hitched when he caught sight of the room. The curtains were now open, and the candles had long since flickered out, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. He was in his chambers.

_Impossible. _Where were the guards? A person could not simply fall through doors. The panic began to churn in his chest again, and without a second thought he ran towards the mirror.

When his eyes met the glassy surface, he almost didn't recognize the person before him. Henry slowly brought a hand to his cheek, as if touching it would ensure him that this was real. His fingertips gingerly grazed over soft, smooth skin, with only the hint of a stubble. No wrinkles, no tiredness. None of the scars and sunken features that had come with age. Oh but it was his face alright. The face of his youth.

He stumbled away from the mirror as if he had been struck. His head was throbbing. He couldn't think, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. As he brought them to his chest, he noticed for the first time the shimmering translucency of his skin. It was so faint to the point where it could easily have been ignored. He had seen this once before with… With Anne. But those were just dreams. She was not truly a ghost. He was not-

_No! _This was not death. It couldn't be. If it truly was then why was he still here? He should have risen to the heavens where Jane was waiting for him. It was a mistake. He was not dead.

He couldn't be dead.

* * *

Henry was dead.

Of that she was certain. She did not have to see it to know. It was a feeling that formed in the pit of her stomach, and, when she saw the tear stained faces appear, she knew that it was true. Anne had considered staying in his rooms to watch him take his last breaths. Perhaps she had thought of it as a form of closure, to see him one last time before he disappeared forever.

She had gone and stood in the corner of the chambers, quietly observing the doctor tend to him. The man wasn't even trying to save his life anymore. His greatest attempt was to rub a damp cloth across Henry's sweltering forehead every few minutes, and even this proved to be increasingly difficult. The King would not stop moving, even in his half asleep state, he groaned and grimaced constantly.

Anne glanced down to where his leg lay unwrapped. The sight itself was hard to look at if you did not have a strong stomach. She knew that the impact from his accident had been causing him trouble for years. Ever since the joust she had watched Henry morph into someone she barely recognized, both physically and mentally. This was especially the case now as she watched him lay there half delusioned, covered in sweat and scars. Still, she found it hard to feel any real pity for him.

"Doctor." Someone called, and it took her a moment to realize it was Henry. Even the sound of his voice had grown estranged to her. Over the years, she had tried to avoid being around him as much as she could, except when it came to Elizabeth.

"Where is my wife?" He asked. The doctor seemed as shocked as she was to hear him speak.

"Your Majesty, Queen Catherine resides in her chambers with your children. They had already come to see you earlier."

Henry's eyes blazed with momentary anger at the response. "No." He spoke. "Catherine is gone. I meant the Queen Anne."

_Queen Anne? _She could only stare at him in shock. He thought that they were still married? That Catherine of Aragon had been sent away? Disgust swept through her body as if she had been slapped. It had been hard enough to watch him live his life with no consequence over what he had done to her. But now, to see that in his final moments, he could not even remember that he had been the one to sign her death warrant.

Anne felt the rage coursing through her body. Some things had never truly changed, and Henry would always believe whatever made things easier for him. She did not even wait to hear the doctor's response before she left the room.

It had been a foolish idea to go and see him. After all, nothing good ever came with being around Henry, she had learned that the hard way. Still, as he drew his final staggering breaths, she felt each one as if it were her own. Anne stood outside of the palace; waiting. And then, there was nothing. He was gone.

She thought she would feel relieved when it happened, that she would finally be free of him. Free of watching him forget her, of seeing him torment her daughter. But instead, there was only a heavy pit forming in her stomach. A rock that seemed to press down on all of her organs.

Something was wrong. It had to be. And then, she saw him, appearing on the ground in front of her. _He was here? Why? _Ever since she had died, she had been alone, wandering the halls wherever court went. Nobody else had ever come.

So of all people, why Henry? Would she have to share her afterlife with him too? Anne shook her head as the truth dawned on her. He would be as trapped as she was, and she, she would never be free of him.

Even in death, Henry and Anne would never leave each other.

**A/N **

**I didn't expect to publish the next part so quickly, but here we go. This probably won't happen again any time soon as I am a full time student and very busy, but I will try to update as regularly as I can. This was my first time writing from Anne's perspective, so I hope that it came out well. The chapter was originally only intended to be in Henry's pov, but I felt that something would be missing if I didn't write Anne's as well. She is as important to this story as he is. In the next chapter we will see Anne and Henry's confrontation, and possibly even Henry's funeral. Thank you for reading and look out for the next update. **


	3. The funeral

Henry sat on the corner of his bed, clutching his scalp between his arms. He did not know how long he had been sitting there, but he could not bring himself to leave. His own body felt foreign to him, as did his own home. In the matter of seconds, everything had changed. _How was this possible? _If he truly was dead, then he shouldn't be here. The very notion seemed ridiculous. Why would God deny him, an anointed King, the entrance to heaven?

Yet this was not hell either. Had he simply been left behind? It must be some sort of mistake. Yes, that was it. Soon he would be gone, whisked away into the arms of his sweet Jane, never to step foot in this place again. _Jane. _Oh how he missed her. He was sure that she was waiting for him, and that they would be reunited soon. He could picture her beautiful, golden locks as clearly as when she was still alive. If he focused, he could almost feel the supple touch of her lips on his, hear her whisper his name.

"Henry."

He looked up in shock. _That voice. _It was not Jane's. His eyes met dark ones, and he found himself unable to look away. Those eyes, could only ever belong to one person. She looked as beautiful as the day they had first met. Her long dark hair fell forward, framing her sharp features, and she wore a dress of stunning purple that fit her every curve. _The colour of Royalty. _He frowned, and his lips formed the words before his mind had time to register what he was doing,

"Anne." He croaked, and the name rolled off his tongue like poison. "It can't be. You're dead."

A heavy silence fell over his vast chambers. Anne blinked once, twice, and walked to the window, turning her back from him. "So are you, Henry." She paused for a moment, and then glanced over her shoulder, fixing him with a cold gaze. "Or had you not yet realized?"

He stared back at her with what he felt was a mixture of shock and annoyance. Of course he had realized, it was in his suspicions from the very beginning. Who did she think she was talking to? And more importantly, why was she here? Did this mean that he wasn't the only one? That there were others roaming the palace too?

"Where is Jane?" He asked sternly. Partially because he truly wanted to know the answer, and partially because he knew the effect the name had on Anne. If he had been expecting a reaction on her part, it was not the one he received. Her shoulders stiffened slightly at the mention of the woman that had replaced her, but, when she turned around, Henry could see no pain, or even anger in her eyes.

The temper she had been known for in life seemed to have completely vanished, and instead, she only addressed him coldly. "She is not here. None of them are."

His stomach sank. "None of them?" Henry repeated quietly, more as a statement than a question. The only thing he could hear was a soft ruffling as Anne shook her head, but even that seemed distant to him now. What did this mean? That they had somehow become ghosts? That he was stuck? With Anne? This couldn't be it, he refused to believe it. It was a trick, a cruel, twisted trick that she was trying to play on him.

Still, as he tried to convince himself, he could feel the last remnants of his hope die, and become replaced by sheer anger. He rounded on Anne in a sudden fluid motion. "You're lying." He seethed, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction. "God knows you have done so before."

Anne blinked once in surprise, and then frowned deeply, clenching her fists at her sides. "You and I both know that's not true." She fumed, glaring daggers back at him. Perhaps her temper had not disappeared after all. Henry shook off her comment and began to wildly circle the room, looking for signs of the illusion she had cast upon him. "Henry what reason would I have to lie to you now?" She questioned. "I've been trapped here for the past eleven years. Alone. You've seen me, you know that it's true."

At her words, Henry's mind spun. Could it be? All of those times he had thought he caught a glimpse of her dark hair in the crowd, only to shake it off as nothing; all of the nights he woke up covered in a sheen of cold sweat, desperately trying to convince himself that their conversations had only been dreams. As much as he had tried to forget her, not a single day had passed since her death in which he hadn't somehow felt Anne's presence lurking. Felt the crushing disappointment and sadness resonating from her.

He stopped pacing as the undeniable truth dawned on him. That feeling, was not one Henry had felt with anyone else. Not Moore, not Catherine, not even his sweet Jane. Anne was here alone, and she had never truly left him.

"There is no way out of here." She spoke, seeming to sense his revelation. "I've tried many times to leave."

Henry looked up from the ground and slowly met her gaze. He could not allow himself to be trapped here for the rest of eternity with her, he refused to believe that that was the case. "Perhaps not for you. I was a King."

"And I was a Queen." She quipped back firmly, staring at him with a piercing coldness in her eyes. "What makes you think my sins are any greater than yours?"

Henry fumed. Had she purposefully forgotten what she had done to him? He was ready to berate her words, but before he could answer, Anne spoke again. "Henry, the only reason I came here now, was to tell you to stay away from me." She had adopted an eerie calmness about her again, one that was so incredibly uncharacteristic to the way he had known her. "Now that you know everything, we have no cause to speak to each other again."

It was that which caused a sudden panic to rise within him. It was one thing to have to be around Anne forever, but another entirely to spend the rest of eternity alone. As she began to walk away, he felt a surge of desperation to call out to her. She couldn't leave him, not when he was so incredibly lost. The more steps she took away from him, the deeper he felt that he was sinking. In a final desperate attempt, he found his voice reaching to her once more.

"Anne please don't-"

But she was already gone.

* * *

Anne stood outside of St. George's Chapel, where she knew her daughter currently resided. In truth, Elizabeth was the only reason she stayed so close to the entrance. However, despite knowing that she was inside, Anne still refused to so much as step foot in the place. It was the day of Henry's funeral, and she would have preferred doing anything other than watching him be buried alongside Jane Seymour.

Given the option, she would not have come at all, but following the court in any case was not a matter of choice. Ever since her death she had found it impossible to stray too far from the royal family without being unceremoniously shunted back. Wherever they went, she was forced to follow, and this included the procession leading to where she stood now.

She had almost found it amusing, the lengths which Henry had gone to for his own burial. That procession alone, leading up from Whitehall to the Chapel, had been four miles long, and at its center there had been an elaborate, tall hearse bearing the coffin as it rumbled across the road. Anne remembered watching it pass, and witnessing the effigy situated on top of the hearse. The model of Henry was dressed in a crimson velvet, and there was a black satin cap set with precious stones covered with a crown. He had truly paid great expense to detail.

She had forced herself to stifle the bitter laugh which threatened to rise up her throat. Observing the whole ordeal, Anne could not help but remember watching her own funeral. Or lack thereof. Her head, then severed at the neck, could not even fit in the coffin allotted to her. Instead, it had been placed to rest against her chest, and she remembered hearing the loud thumps as it rolled and hit the sides of the coffin while her body was moved, each crash seeming more sickening than the last.

To think that now, she was trapped with the same man who could not even have been bothered to find her a proper burial place. Yes, _it was a special kind of hell _she mused. A special one indeed.

* * *

Inside St. George's Chapel, Henry watched his body being lowered into its resting place. It was a strange thing to witness, especially as this was perhaps the first time he could clearly see how sick and old he had grown to be before his death. His face scrunched in minor disgust, and he looked down at his youthful body again, still half shocked by the notion of being returned to his physical prime. Still shocked by everything really, but he was trying, and failing, not to dwell on it now.

At the very least his arrangements to be placed next to Jane had been taken care of. Even if he spiritually could not be with her, his physical form still would, and that made for some consolation.

Up in the oriel window, Katherine, now the dowager Queen, was observing the ceremony. If it was strange for her to watch her husband being placed next to another woman, she did not show it. She stood with grace and poise, only allowing the proper amount of sadness to be visible against her strong features.

He could not help but notice that Anne was not in attendance. Truly he should have expected as much, she had made her intentions to stay away from him very clear. Still, he couldn't explain why it bothered him so much, the fact that she didn't seem to care at all. It was not that he was pleased with their current predicament, not by a long shot, but when she had still been alive, the one thing he could always count on were Anne's feelings for him. Whether they were love or anger, there was always something there. But now, when he had looked into her eyes, he saw nothing, nothing at all.

In front of the crowd were his three children, Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth. Mary was clutching the rosary in her grip, her eyes watering, and Edward too shuffled about nervously. His eyes trained on his youngest daughter. Elizabeth only stared at the ground solemnly, her eyes seeming to fixate on a single spot in the tile pattern. There was not a single trace of wetness against her cheeks. Henry froze. Out of all of his children, Elizabeth was the only one who did not shed a single tear.

**A/N**

**For those of you who don't know, an effigy is a sculpture or model of a person. (Yes, Henry had a model of himself on top of his coffin.) Also, for those of you expecting a bigger confrontation between Henry and Anne, don't worry, she will have plenty of ****opportunities**** to tell him off in the future. For now I think that she just needs time to come to terms with the situation, especially as she really doesn't want to be around him. I've re-written this chapter so many times so I hope it came out well, and thank you for reading. **


	4. Long live the King

Anne watched her daughter as she sat by the windowsill. Her knuckles were white from how firmly she was clutching the book in front of her, and, despite the intensity of her gaze training on the words, Elizabeth had not turned a single page in over twenty minutes. Her usually intelligent eyes were clouded over, and even her face seemed paler than normal.

Outside, the heavy fog covered any ray of sunshine hoping to come through, casting a glum shadow over the entire room. Anne frowned. Of course, she knew the reason for her daughter's foul mood. It was on days like these that she wanted nothing more than to be able to reach out to her, and hold her in her arms. She sighed heavily; that unfortunately was not an option now, but she had hope that even if Elizabeth could not see her, perhaps she could still somehow sense her presence.

Earlier that day had been Edward's coronation. He was crowned King of England on a cool February day at the age of nine. Anne knew that Elizabeth loved her younger brother, she had seen how affectionate she was with him, but she could also notice the effect this was having on her. In a way, it was a slap in the face.

Edward was a dear child, Anne truly believed that. She had watched him grow up from the shadows, and while at first she had felt only anger towards his birth, anger that Jane Seymour was able to give Henry what she never could, it had faded over time. After his mother passed, and much to her surprise, she began to feel a strange protectiveness for the boy. He had taken after Jane not only in appearance, but also in personality. Edward was sweet and gentle, and where Jane's supposed innocence had always seemed forced to her, his was genuine and captivating. She found that she could not hate him, and while he may be a threat to her daughter, Anne realized now that this was not something she could fault him for. He had not chosen the circumstances of his birth any more than she had. Still, just because she didn't blame the boy, didn't mean that she was pleased with how things had turned out. Elizabeth was meant to be on the throne, Anne was sure of that. Not only was it her birthright, but her daughter had also proved time and time again that she was worthy of being Queen. Even at a young age, Elizabeth had always shown intellect far beyond what was expected of her. If she had been born a boy, nobody would ever have stopped to question her right to rule.

Looking at her daughter, Anne knew that this was also how she felt about the situation. That she had so much more to offer to all of England than she was being allowed to show. In another world, one where Henry hadn't stripped her of her title, it would be her wearing the crown right now. Anne clenched her fist at the thought of the former King. Ever since she had confronted him weeks ago, they had hardly said a single word to one another. Just as before his death, she spent most of her days with Elizabeth, and while Henry had tried to visit in the beginning, he seemed to be quickly put off by her mere presence. At first he seemed to want to say something to her. Whenever they met, his mouth would open and he would pause for a moment before seeming to think better of it and stalking off. This continued for a while with no result until he finally stopped and stayed away. Now apart from a few unfortunate run-ins, they were learning to avoid each other. In fact, she had not seen him for several nights up until today when she had gone to the coronation.

While she still did not think that he should be the one ruling over England, Anne had felt a strange need to go and see Edward on his big day. The ceremony was held at Westminster Abbey, a place that she had visited several times during her life. For this reason, she knew the approximate layout of the hall, and had planned in advance where she would stand so that Henry wouldn't see her. Of course she anticipated that he would be there. Henry had spent so much of his life longing for a son, and now, she knew that he wouldn't miss seeing Edward's succession for the world.

When the time came, she stood behind one of the pillars on the balcony, and watched the coronation take place. Much as she had suspected, Henry appeared moments later, moving to stand beside the young boy. It was the first time she had properly seen him in days. Anne felt her stomach sink as her gaze fell on him. He looked exactly the same as the day they had first met. While she had already noticed the youthful appearance he regained in death, this was something else entirely. When they spoke, he had looked just as young, but his demeanor was still very much the same as the Henry from right before he died. This, however, this was not that man. He stood with an air of confidence beside his son; his chin lifted up, his shoulders pulled back, and his posture as straight as a pin. There was a commanding aura around him, the one she knew so well in life, and particularly during their courtship. Today, he reminded her so much of that Henry. Of _her _Henry; and it pained her to see him that way.

Anne wrenched her eyes away from him, blinking back the sheen of mist threatening to cover them. She looked instead to where Mary and Elizabeth stood in the corner of the room. Both girls smiled brightly, flashing their grins to the onlookers. They had become great actresses, for Anne knew all too well the fake happiness of royals. She did suspect, however, that Mary was more genuine than Elizabeth. After all, the girl practically worshiped the ground Jane Seymour walked on. If she couldn't be Queen, then her son was the next best thing.

From her spot, Anne watched the rest of the ceremony pass by quickly. Henry had not left Edward's side the entire time until now, when he stepped back slightly to make room for the Archbishop who was preparing to place the crown on the boy's head. For a moment she could not help but remember when Henry had done the same for her, crowning her Queen of England. He had been so adamant then that he should be by her side throughout the coronation, that, as a final show of love, he would be the one to proclaim her new title. How different things were now. Today, she could see the pride shining in his eyes as the crown was slowly lowered. In truth, it was that same glimmer that had always been missing whenever he looked at Elizabeth.

* * *

It was as he was leaving the ceremony that he caught sight of her. Anne phased through members of the crowd, her skin glowing with translucency as the people passed through her. In fact, she seemed so close to invisible that he almost hadn't spotted her. Henry felt the surprise course through him. _What had she been doing at the coronation? _He couldn't imagine that it was out of any particular fondness towards Edward, and he also doubted that her reason was just to be around Elizabeth. Of course he knew that Anne would be close by. Their shared curse did not allow them to stray far from the royal family, but he had suspected she would wait outside much as she had done for his funeral. Henry frowned and scrunched his forehead. He was sure he had seen her leave from the inside of Westminster Abbey, which meant that she had come there by choice. _Why? _

Without thinking, he suddenly felt his legs move beneath him as he began to chase after her. This proved to be a harder feat than he imagined. Over the past few weeks Anne had proven to be a master at avoiding him, but she also seemed to be much more familiar with life as a ghost than he was. She easily moved through walls and corridors, disappearing and reappearing at will. Henry struggled to keep up with her, until she was lost on him entirely. He spent moments frantically glancing around, hoping to spot the corner of her dress or the curls of her hair. His attempts were all fruitless, and he leaned back against the wall with a sigh. Restlessly, Henry ran a hand through his hair before pinching his nose in concentration. He himself couldn't explain why he was so desperate to talk to her. A long time ago the reason had been their passionate love for one another, but that was far from the case now. Anne hated him, that much was obvious, and his feeling for her were far from positive.

No, it was not her anger, but the silence which he couldn't bear. She had loved him, she had hated him, but she had never been quiet; and it shocked him to realize how little he knew her now. He could not fathom how she had spent all these years speaking to no one, completely alone. While he did not exactly pity Anne, the past few weeks had been trying enough for him. Nothing made sense anymore, not himself, not his children, and least of all Anne. Even her screaming at him would be better than this seemingly never ending quietness. Most of the time she just avoided him fully, instead spending her days with their daughter.

_Elizabeth. _Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? If Anne was to be found anywhere, it was in Elizabeth's rooms. Shaking his thoughts off he rounded down the halls with a newfound purpose. He had to make Anne speak to him, he had to. When he arrived at the doors he didn't even bother trying to open them, instead stepping through and feeling the familiar rush of coldness pass through his spine. Henry had been right. She sat poised next to Elizabeth, who seemed to be rather intently studying the book in her hands. Anne glanced up as he came in, and he saw a momentary flash of something unreadable pass through her eyes as they stared at each other.

Mere seconds passed before she stood up with a frown. "Why are you here Henry?"

It wasn't until now when he was truly facing her that he found himself at a loss for words. They stood in silence while he fumbled for a coherent response, her very gaze seeming to unnerve him even more. "I saw you." He finally stated, giving up any chance of articulacy. "At the coronation."

She opened her mouth slightly in surprise at his words, before pressing her lips together in a thin line. "Yes, I was there." Anne nodded curtly as she spoke.

"Why?"

She sighed and walked across the room. "Why not? I saw no point in avoiding it." Henry felt the familiar frustration he got around her begin to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. He needed some kind of answer, some kind of sign that he still somewhat knew the woman before him. This calm deflecting front that she was putting only served to anger him. But, after all, perhaps that was really her goal. "Henry, your son has never personally wronged me." Anne spoke again. "I had no reason to stay away."

He frowned at her words. He could not believe that she truly didn't mind the fact that Edward was King. She had hated Jane while they were alive, and he doubted now that Anne felt any great kindness towards her son. So what was this then? A trick?

"Did you come all the way here just to ask me that?" Her voice suddenly broke through his thoughts. She was looking at him coldly, as if she couldn't wait to be free of his presence. Henry fumed. Her aloof behaviour had gone on long enough.

"I want to see Elizabeth." He spoke. "Without _you _always being there." If that didn't get some kind of reaction from her, he didn't know what would. "She's my daughter too."

Anne rounded on him in a sudden flash of billowing skirts. "That didn't seem to be a great concern of yours when you were still alive." She spat before thinking better of it, and seeming to try and collect herself. "You had eleven years to spend with her. You will not take her away from me a second time." Whatever she did seemed to have worked, and her tone shifted back to the cold he was growing so accustomed to.

"You have no right to speak to me that way." Henry tried to reprimand her, but she only let out a hollow laugh.

"Don't I?" It was phrased as a question, but sounded more like a statement. "You're not King anymore Henry. I have no reason to hold my tongue around you now." As she spoke, she looked at him with what could only be described as sheer pity in her eyes. Normally that would have angered him, but he felt nothing of the sort now. Instead it was replaced by the fear beginning to rise in his chest as it dawned on him that she was right. He had no power now, and this, was Anne's Kingdom.

**A/N **

**Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Unfortunately this is a very busy time for me, and updates are going to happen much slower until my exams are over. I do however have every intention to finish this story, and will not leave it until I do. My only goal is to avoid rushing and posting rushed content. **


	5. Catherine Seymour

She had married him! Henry paced angrily in the empty halls of the castles' grand library. The wretched woman, after everything he had done for her, all the papers and ceremony he had gone through to ensure that she be treated with the full respect of a Queen upon his death, and how did she repay him? By marrying, his former brother in law nonetheless, in secret not even three months after his body was placed into the ground. Oh the vile harpy, the wretched she-devil. He had known she had flirtations with Thomas Seymour before they married, but he had always thought Catherine Parr to be a stately and noble woman of great character. It seemed he was being proven otherwise, for she had not even waited for his body to truly grow cold before running back to her former lover.

Their very union was muddled in secrecy, as the pair had waited several months following their marriage in May before making it a public knowledge. Perhaps that was what irked him the most. She had known the scandal it would cause, how it would destroy her image, yet she chose to go through with it anyway. How much of their own relationship had been a lie then? He thought, over the years, that she had truly grown to care for him. After all he had always treated her kindly, and she had been a wonderful stepmother to all of his children. Had she been secretly pining for Seymour all that time? Henry fumed at the thought. It seemed that many of his wives exhibited similar unfaithful behaviour. Catherine of Aragon, he was sure that, despite her insistence otherwise, had gone to bed with his brother. Catherine Howard, a young and foolish girl, was well known to have had lovers during their marriage. Catherine Parr, had evidently yearned for Thomas Seymour, and he was now grateful he had chosen to send him away from court. Then there was Anne, the very woman whom he was now doomed to spend an eternity with, who had betrayed him for her own brother alongside countless other men. He shook his head somberly. At least his children and the English people seemed to be on his side. Mary had refused Catherine when she wrote to her for help, and even demanded of Elizabeth not to interact with her further. Edward had been similarly scandalized upon discovering just how long his stepmother hid the truth from him, and it was safe to say that his former subjects were all outraged.

It was then, when he felt the now all too familiar cool air waft through the room, that his shoulders tensed even further. He had wondered how long it would take for her to find him. Despite the fact that most days she seemed more than happy to stay as far away from him as possible, he somehow doubted she would turn her back on this. She may be different from the way he remembered her in life, but some things never truly changed.

"Anne." He spoke. "Have you come here to gloat?"

Henry turned to face her as the words fell out of his mouth, and felt a surge of anger at the sheer look of innocence she had plastered on her face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She answered, voice cool as ever, but the slight upwards tug of her lip betrayed her true feelings.

"Don't play games with me Anne, not now." Then, after a pause. "What is it you want?'

She let out a deep sigh, one that sounded as if she had been holding it in for years, and moved towards him. "What I have always wanted. For you to acknowledge the consequences of your actions."

"My actions?" He stared at her as if dumbfounded, and Anne suppressed a scoff. It wasn't surprising to her to see that he hadn't considered his involvement in this matter at all.

She had debated coming to him now, in fact she almost hadn't. When word of Catherine Parr's new marriage had spread, her first thought had been of the sheer irony of the situation. The old Anne, the one she had been in life, would have been quick to point this out when she had the chance, to finally make him listen. But Henry had snuffed out any fire she still had the day he ordered her execution. It was only when she saw his sheer rage, how determined he was to make himself the victim in every story, that she felt a sudden start of indignation, and the embers in her being stoked back to life. She had been unable to say anything during her life as Queen, when every word could be used against her, but there were no consequences now. She owed it to herself, to that Anne, to the person she used to be but could never become again, to say them now.

"Yes, yours." She spoke, maintaining her voice as cold and firm. She would not show weakness to him, not now.

Henry frowned further, his brow creasing in the process. "I fail to see how the traitorous behaviour of my wives is any of my fault."

"There are two factors to every marriage Henry, and you are the only one to have been present across all of them. Can you really say that none of this is your doing?" Anne asked, careful to maintain her calm and unyielding stance.

"Are you implying I'm unable to satisfy my wife?" He rounded on her, as if it were the greatest insult she could have possibly made.

As he spoke, she remembered her own words from many years ago. "_The King cannot satisfy a woman. He has neither the skill nor virility." _She had said them in anger back then, but a show of fury would do her no good now. Anne may have changed since the time he had known her, but Henry, despite regaining his youthful appearance, was the same lecherous man he had been at the time of his death. The only way to make him listen, the greatest weapon she could yield, was the truth.

"Or perhaps it's that you couldn't make us happy."

It was those words that made him stop. _Couldn't make us happy? _

"How can you say that?" He asked, the timbre of his voice rising with indignation. "After everything I did for you? I raised you from nothing, I made you a Queen! Anne, I tore my country apart for you."

She only shook her head somberly in response. "And the moment you had me you threw me away."

He finally looked up to meet her eyes, and saw a quick flash of long buried sorrow behind them. Threw her away? She was the one who failed to do as she promised. Failed to give him a son and made a mockery of him in front of his kingdom and all other foreign powers. Then, as if that wasn't enough, she violated the sanctity of their marriage bed by bringing other men into it, and committed treason against her King. No, what happened between them was not his fault, and he would not let her make it out to be. Henry opened his mouth to berate her, but was quickly cut off as Anne spoke once more.

"You knew Catherine was in love with Thomas Seymour when you asked her to marry you, and yet you did it anyway, knowing there was no way she could refuse a proposal from the King of England. How can you blame her for going back to him once she finally had the chance?"

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He had known Catherine at the very least had a great liking for the Seymour brother, so why had he asked? Perhaps it had been to prove that despite his age and lame leg, he could still have any woman he desired, or because he had seen how kind she was towards his children. In any case, England needed a Queen, and he had believed she was the best fit at the time. He had only done what he believed was right for his country.

"I only did what I had to to give England the Queen she deserved." He spoke, his voice rising with a familiar sense of authority. But Anne scoffed at his feeble attempt at an excuse. "I'm sure there were other eligible women. You forget I've been here, watching from the shadows all this time. There could have been others. She did nothing to you to warrant this anger."

Henry felt the fury bubble in his chest, and the words came out before he could stop them."She should have waited longer after my death to remarry."

"And how long did you wait to take Jane Seymour as your wife after mine?"

She held his gaze, and her eyes were so cold that he thought, if possible, she could kill him again with a single look. They had always known exactly what to say to provoke each other, and for the first time in a while, Henry felt truly stunned. He had wanted to snap back at her, berate her for offending his Jane, but the way she looked at him, with the glare of a thousand daggers, and the way that she stood, with the poise of a thousand Queens, stopped him in his tracks.

This woman that stood before him was not who he remembered from the months before her death. That woman hadn't dared raise her voice against him. That woman had done everything she possibly could to regain his favour. Now, however, he was reminded of the Anne from their courtship. The one who was always full of such fire and life, fire which he had once greatly admired. Their arguments then had been explosive, yet passionate, all in the time before she had learned to hold her tongue. Still, that role somehow didn't seem to fit her now either. This new Anne, the woman before him now, was a menace. Equal parts hot and cold, with a tongue still sharp enough to cut steel. She could wear a mask to hide her emotions effortlessly, yet knew exactly which short words to say to bring his blood to a boil. She could act indifferent to him one moment, and then be ready to bite the next, but all with an aura of cool and impenetrable calculation. He stared at her dumbfounded.

"What happened to you Anne?"

Her lips twitched upwards in a humorless smirk.

"Don't you remember? You cut my head off."

And with that, she vanished.

* * *

**A/N: Wow I'm so sorry for the wait for this chapter. When I said it would take me a while to update I didn't mean a over a year. Nevertheless, here it finally is. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I know not much happened plot wise, but I really just wanted to give Anne the chance to finally voice some of her grievances, because let's be honest she deserves it. I also know Henry is being quite stubborn and I promise he will eventually have to face and come to terms with his actions, but it's going to be a long road to get there. In the next chapter I'm hoping the get into Catherine Parr's pregnancy and Thomas Seymour's relationship with Elizabeth, so it will move a bit quicker from now on, and then I'll delve into Edward's death and the brief reign of Jane Grey. I really can't say when the next update will be because the whole world is really hectic right now and I hope everyone is staying safe, but I stand by my original promise to one day finish this story. As always I hope I'm still managing to do the characters justice and thank you for reading. Until next time! **


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